


Touching the artwork is prohibited

by gyunikum



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Some Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyunikum/pseuds/gyunikum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sanghyuk is a rookie model, Jaehwan is an art teacher, and Hakyeon is a ballet dancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touching the artwork is prohibited

**Author's Note:**

> can you believe that [this photo](http://media.tumblr.com/963c2ae1a7177ecbc6b1a070f618e0c3/tumblr_mqb16bR35R1r8a073o1_1280.jpg) inspired this monster?

Sanghyuk checks the address on the crumpled paper once again, and his heart sinks when the number is the same as the scratchy handwriting and the brass decoration on the wall.

The building is… well… it’s in a serious need of either a thorough renovation or just a simple demolition with its crumbling walls, plasterwork in small patches and red bricks with chipped edges, rusty iron rods peeking out from concrete ledges.

And it should be housing some kind of art academy.

There’s a balcony on the third floor with two girls sitting on the very edge, leaning against the cracked pillars that hold the balcony’s ceiling, with their slender legs hanging down. One of them, a fair haired beauty notices Sanghyuk first and waves at him with a cigarette in her long fingers, the other one shouting something at him with a toothy grin, motioning for him to go up.

The vaporetto Sanghyuk has gotten off at the corner chugs past him slowly, its engine drowning out the sound of sloshing water.

Late summer afternoon breeze blows through the canal, stifling and stinking, though Sanghyuk’s gotten used to the smell by now but the temperature is still unbearable, sticking to the insides of his lungs and pressing onto his chest. A drop of sweat trickles down his scalp, uncomfortable, his breezy shirt thin and sleeveless, but offering him no help against the heat.

After getting through the buzzing intercom with his poor Italian he had been forced to take lessons for before he left Seoul, and the squeaking double doors, heavy wooden and the doorknob wobbling in his hand, Sanghyuk prepares himself for the inevitable as he walks up the spiral staircase with railing too instable for him to hold onto. Laughter filters out the hallway from an open door as he nears the third floor, his destination. His heart hammers in his chest.

Before entering, Sanghyuk stops to take a deep breath. He curses his agency once more, like he’s done for the past day ever since they sent him the e-mail, a job they’d taken for him while he was in town, easy money.

All he’s got to do is sit model in an art workshop for some small academy, and it wouldn’t be too much of a burden for Sanghyuk – like, he just has to sit in one position for a few hours – if he didn’t have to do it stark naked.

The only fact that consoles him is that at least they notified Sanghyuk about his job early on so he had time to trim the hair around his dick to resemble less of a dark bush. It makes him appear bigger, but it’s cold comfort.

A girl, another European beauty with her olive skin glistening under the old lights, saunters past Sanghyuk in a satin leotard the moment he steps into the small hall of the school, scaring the shit out of Sanghyuk. She giggles at him with a cheeky grin and sways her wide hips, her steps airy as she disappears behind an ornate door.

The floor creaks under Sanghyuk’s shoes as he makes his way across the hall, looking for a man named Ken without any idea how he looks like or where he might be found inside.

A flock of dancers follow the previous girl from a short hallway, male and female, various nationalities, but Sanghyuk’s eyes slide over the girls and lands on a boy, skin tan in a different way than the Arabian girl that’s talking to him animatedly, and his eyes, his eyes are the same as Sanghyuk’s.

Their gazes meet, and the boy’s face brightens, like when the Sun peeks out from between clouds on an overcast sky, and his smile is easy, beautiful.

They move like delicate flowers in a spring breeze, steps almost inaudible, all of them sporting ballet dancewear, and Sanghyuk stares at them, mouth agape a little bit.

“A bird will fly in if you don’t close your mouth,” the sun-kissed boy comments lightly in English, his accent similar to Sanghyuk’s but a lot less noticeable, breezing past Sanghyuk with another smile.

He must be Korean too, and Sanghyuk doesn’t know why he feels relieved just a little bit more.

“Are you the model for Ken’s class?” a girl asks, last in the small group, ginger, and verdant eyes, taller than Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk nods, finding constellations on the girl’s freckles that dust her pale face, his tongue frozen in place and brain still enthralled by the other boy lingering around in his mind.

“Just go in there, don’t be afraid,” the girl points at a double set door right across from the entrance, only one side of it open.

“Thanks,” Sanghyuk stammers out and almost trips in his own feet when he steps away. The girl sends him a grin and a wave, following her peers down the hall with a quick _good luck._

The art studio is spacious, larger than the hall, one half of it encased in mirrors and wooden beams mounted on the wall, while the other one, separated by heavy curtains, is filled with art equipment, benches, chairs, tables, small Roman style statues holding old-fashioned bulbs that still work, and everything is yellow and beige and brown, soft and pastel, and Sanghyuk instantly takes a liking to the atmosphere.

The balcony’s doors are open, but instead of the previous two girls Sanghyuk has seen from outside, there’s only a tall man leaning against the railing, smoking, with his back facing the inside of the flat.

“Hey,” somebody greets Sanghyuk, catching him off-guard, and Sanghyuk whips his head around, noticing a short girl straddling a wooden bench in the corner, quietly.

“Hello,” Sanghyuk replies, blinking, but the girl goes back to her drawing, ignoring him. He looks around more carefully, but there’s no one else, benches and canvas stands with three-leg chairs positioned in a half circle and a low textile armchair from across them.

The man rounds the armchair as he comes back in from the balcony, and Sanghyuk swallows the surprised sound that wants to escape his throat at the sight. He tells himself that there’s no way for another Korean person to be there, whether he’s just another student or the art instructor Sanghyuk needs to talk to as per his agency’s request, but—

“You’re Sanghyuk?” the guy asks, and yes, he’s Korean because he pronounces Sanghyuk’s name effortlessly. His short English is perfect, something Sanghyuk is more comfortable talking with than his poor Italian.

Sanghyuk’s throat squeezes as he answers briefly.

“I’m Jaehwan,” the man introduces himself, grabbing Sanghyuk’s hand and shaking it, and then leans closer, “the others struggle with the pronunciation, so they just call me Ken,” he notes with a playful smile, his full lips pink and plump.

Sanghyuk’s eyes linger on those lips, unable to look away.

“Don’t lie to him,” the short girl pipes up behind them with an unimpressed tone, “you went around telling us your name was Ken,” she deadpans, and Sanghyuk can’t help the entertained snort that escapes his throat. He covers his mouth, not wanting to appear rude for laughing at the man.

“Shh!” Jaehwan hisses with a finger in front of his lips, “just let me be cool this once,” he pleads lightly. The girl fights the smile that threatens to crack her cold façade, to no avail

“I’ll tell the others to come,” the girl says instead, placing her pencil down on the bench, “since we’re ready to finally start the class,” she sends a look at Sanghyuk’s way, not in an accusing way though Sanghyuk knows it’s his fault for arriving late.

“Yeah, uh, sorry for being a bit late,” Sanghyuk scratches the back of his neck nervously, turning to Jaehwan. “Kinda got lost on the way.”

“It happens,” Jaehwan nods understandingly, his full lips in a half-pout. He takes a deep breath, clasping his hands.

There’s a bit of commotion outside the studio, it’s probably the previous girl rounding up whoever is in the workshop – people that are going to draw Sanghyuk naked and—

“Okay, so, you’ll be sitting here,” Jaehwan speaks up, catching Sanghyuk’s attention. “We’ll find you a comfy position and everything,” he says, tilting his head to the side, probably envisioning Sanghyuk in the chair, a position that wouldn’t look too unflattening from any direction nor would it be too demanding for Sanghyuk’s muscles.

"And you can undress in my office, there," Jaehwan points at a door on the other side.

"Alright, then I'll just—," Sanghyuk raises his arms, like a half-assed hand gesture, not knowing what else to do. His task is only starting to dawn on him now.

"Uh, actually, I hope it's not gonna be too awkward for you," Jaehwan notes, looking somewhat apologetic.

"It's okay. I've done this before," Sanghyuk says because he did, he's been naked in front of unknown people in a room, though instead of canvases and pencils there were lighting equipment and cameras. If Sanghyuk wanted to be honest with himself, sitting without clothes seemed a lot more compelling than having sex with a guy solely for the purpose of jump-starting his career.

"Oh, oh that's good," Jaehwan lets out a relieved exhale. He lets Sanghyuk into his small office meanwhile, the place cramped with art stuff and disposed canvases against the wall in towers in the corner, a few masterpieces hung on the wall. Jaehwan clears away a bit of junk for Sanghyuk to put his bag down, and while Sanghyuk takes off his shirt, the man fishes through one of the drawers in the desk.

"So you'll be able to keep it going for two and a half hours or do you want the cock ring?"

 

Sanghyuk blinks at Jaehwan, and then at the silvery ring he's holding up. His eyes jump between Jaehwan’s face and the object until he feels his eyeballs are going to fall out.

"What?" Sanghyuk blurts out. He's stopped unbuttoning his pants at the question, shirt already on the chair next to him. He crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling too exposed.

Jaehwan wrinkles his forehead, sweeping his - somewhat predatory - gaze on Sanghyuk's torso.

"Did they not tell you that you need to sit model with an erection?"

"Uh…” Sanghyuk chokes out in surprise, “no.”

Sanghyuk can't believe his ears.

What the fuck?

As if the deal wasn't bad enough with him having to sit under the scrutinizing gazes of half a dozen art students stark naked, he's gotta do it with an erection.

How in fuck is he going to keep it up for two freaking hours?

Oh.

So maybe that’s why the ring. Can he even wear it for two hours?

Shit. He can't back out from this job now. The agency will not only kick him out but will most probably prevent him from ever getting a job as a model. The company is nothing big, but rumors spread quickly and there’s a hundred more pretty boys waiting to fill the tiny void Sanghyuk would leave. Sanghyuk doesn't want that. He didn't play in that porn movie for his career to be over before he can land at least one photoshoot for a major magazine.

"So...?" Jaehwan begins, "I'm—I’m sorry dude if it came with a shock but I asked for that specifically and I already sent half the payment to your agency. I'll be in deep shit if you leave now."

"Must I really have... it?" Sanghyuk stammers, feeling like a virgin all of a sudden. Now he knows why his agency chose him; he shouldn't have included starring in a porn movie as a past experience in his CV, he really fucking should not have.

"This is what today's workshop is about, I can't just change the theme because something came up. It doesn't work like that," Jaehwan explains.

Sanghyuk grabs onto the edge of the office desk, almost knocking off a pile of paper sheets and brushes. A few of them clatter on the ground though, and Sanghyuk would apologize if it wasn't for his mind trying to come up with a plan.

He exhales a quiet _fuck._

When his mind returns blank, he scraps the idea, and sighs.

"Y-yeah, I'll do it, I just uh..."

Jaehwan points at the door. There's chattering on the other side, students gathering.

"Do you want me to call one of the girls to help you?"

"No!" Sanghyuk exclaims in surprise, covering his mouth immediately. "I mean, I can do it myself."

"Thanks man," Jaehwan sighs in relief, closing his eyes for a moment. “I don’t get why your agency didn’t tell you,” he trails off, looking at Sanghyuk with sympathy.

Sanghyuk draws his mouth into a line.

“Anyway, if you’re gonna wear the ring, you’ll have to take it off every twenty minutes,” Jaehwan informs him, his voice strangely business-like. “Half an hour is the max, but let’s not stretch it.”

“I’ll see?” Sanghyuk half says half asks, eyeing the metal band that Jaehwan’s set on the desk.

Jaehwan leaves without another word, closing the door behind himself, and the glare of the lamp bouncing off the ring blinds Sanghyuk when he looks at the object, contemplating whether he should wear it or not.

He should look up the health risks.

 

Sanghyuk thinks about the sun-kissed boy he’s seen with the ballet dancers, as he wraps his fingers around himself, trying not to acknowledge the presence of the other people waiting for him outside, all of them aware of what he’s doing in there. Instead, he recalls the way the boy’s lithe body moved elegantly, like ink flowing in water, the way the leotard clung to his shape, his sharp hips, and the natural bulge between his legs. For Sanghyuk, it’s obvious that among all the students he’s seen in this school, that boy is the most beautiful to him. Jaehwan comes close after him.

With the cock ring left on the desk – he’s figured he should use it when it gets hard for him to maintain his erection –, Sanghyuk cracks open the door, hesitating for a moment. He sees a few benches and chairs, all filled up, and Jaehwan loitering across the armchair before shifting his position. At the sound of the office door opening, Jaehwan’s eyes lock with Sanghyuk’s, and Sanghyuk doesn’t have more time to waste.

Maybe his cheeks are burning, maybe they aren’t, but the students – there’s eight of them to be precise – glance at him for a second before returning to whatever they were doing before Sanghyuk entered.

The worst, though, is Jaehwan’s gaze.

He’s looking at Sanghyuk like he wants to eat him up. He bites into his lip, probably unconsciously, and looks Sanghyuk up and down with an appreciating nod.

“Just perfect,” he comments merrily. “Try this position. Should be comfortable enough,” he changes the topic after eyeing Sanghyuk’s dick, not exactly subtly, and gets up to give the seat to Sanghyuk. His face must be deep red by now.

Sanghyuk tries to imitate the way Jaehwan lay in the armchair, the back of his knees on one of the armrests, but the edge of other one digs into his spine. He shifts around, looking for a comfortable position, until he feels hands on his shoulders, long fingers gripping him. The feeling of cold fingertips sends a spark down his body, making him wince.

“It might be comfortable now, but in half an hour, you’ll be dying to move around,” Jaehwan tells him, quietly, almost a whisper above the background chatter of the students, and Sanghyuk’s cock twitches, the hot breath on his ear, the feeling of Jaehwan’s presence so close to him, the sensation of the man’s cooling fingers on his heated skin.

“Trust me, been there done that,” Jaehwan continues, his laugh airy, and he organizes Sanghyuk’s limbs with lingering touches, fingers around his armpits and wrists and ankles, knees, sliding up his thighs. If Sanghyuk wasn’t hard before, he definitely would be by the time Jaehwan steps away from him.

 _God,_ Sanghyuk whines in his head. He thinks that if he kept imagining Jaehwan naked and strewn across the armchair like Sanghyuk is now, he wouldn’t have a hard time keeping his erection for the rest of the day.

This is so not fair.

After a few minutes of rearranging and suggestions from the students, Sanghyuk is done, his position comfortable so far, but the feeling of being so exposed to people that are not there exclusively for something sexual makes Sanghyuk feel too vulnerable, with his legs spread apart, one leg on the armrest, his other foot set on the ground, and one of his hands resting on his stomach – as per Jaehwan’s idea –, while his head is propped on the other arm, elbow on the armrest, his ass almost at the edge of the chair.

Jaehwan checks the time, and the sunset streaming through the large windows paints his face with blazing orange, and Sanghyuk has never been one to appreciate art more than something pretty to look at, but now he wishes somebody would paint Jaehwan in that moment, his eyelashes long and fluttering against his high cheeks, his plump lips pulled into a slight smile and the whisper of stubble on his chin and jaw, his brown hair messy and his clothes hanging off his wide shoulders. It’s a moment that begs to be stopped, to be immortalized through a camera or on a canvas, but Jaehwan moves away, the magic is gone, with uncontrollable effects lingering in the pit of Sanghyuk’s stomach.

Sanghyuk is fucked.

Sanghyuk is fucked not only because of the quickly building lust for Jaehwan, but because after half an hour, the arm that’s supporting his head has already gone numb and his neck is cramped along with his whole back, the telltale prickling sensation starting to settle into his butt and the edge of the armrest cutting into the back of his knee. He occasionally shifts around a bit, trying to ease the numbness, but he doesn’t want to butcher up anyone’s drawing with his squirming.

The radio has been turned on about ten minutes into the first drawing session, playing a slow mainstream pop song radio channels always play, and Jaehwan keeps making circles around them behind the students, his expression and eyes stark contrast to the man who’s introduced himself to Sanghyuk.

This Jaehwan is professional, someone who could be called a great teacher making the best of efforts to help his students improve. He makes suggestions before cracking a joke, calling his students by their first names and commenting on not only their mistakes but their personal lives as well, just on the degree where it’s not too private and pushy. The students call him Ken, and treat him as their close friend, laughter filling the room, the song playing just a background noise to fill up the remaining void when it gets too silent from time to time.

This Jaehwan is an artist in his every fiber and Sanghyuk wishes it was the man drawing him, making him into a work of art.

Sometimes he closes his eyes, mostly after his gaze meets with a student’s, accidentally, over the edge of a canvas, and Sanghyuk has to rebuild the image he’s hung on the wall of his mind, photos of Jaehwan and Jaehwan’s hands touching him in inappropriate places, with the sun-kissed boy appearing in between.

Sanghyuk wonders how he’s going to get over the two of them when he’s finished with this job and he goes home – to his motel room in Venice, or his shitty apartment in Seoul, it doesn’t matter because either way, he’s never going to see them ever again.

Maybe he should stop being shy and ask Jaehwan for a quick fuck or something. He’s already mourning the ballet dancer in his mind, but at least Jaehwan is still there for a few more hours.

The first break, ten minutes, breezes by quickly, like a fleeting moment, just enough for Sanghyuk to move around a bit, with his cock curving upwards, stretching his muscles and shaking blood back into his arms. Most of the students filter out of the studio, and Jaehwan is on the balcony, smoking another cigarette. Sanghyuk looks at the lines of his back, and he knows he should conceal the longing look in his eyes because he’s not alone, but he couldn’t care less anymore, his courage returning.

His courage dissipates after Sanghyuk’s returned from the bathroom, when a thin door on the other side of the studio suddenly opens, a handful of dancers flowing into the other half of the spacious room, reflections multiplying them on the mirrors.

The sun-kissed boy is among them, and he—

He fucking smirks at Sanghyuk, eyes trained at his lower half.

Sanghyuk turns around quickly, not knowing what else to do but to cover himself, barely stopping his hands from flying down to cup around his junk in some semblance of privacy. He crashes into Jaehwan’s chest.

“Oh, I thought you were done for today,” Jaehwan calls out, his hands holding – _groping_ – Sanghyuk by his biceps. Sanghyuk bites into his lip, shutting his eyes tightly in embarrassment, but Jaehwan keeps him in place when he wants to step away.

“We need to practice a little more. Is it okay with you?” the sun-kissed boy says, his voice dipped in honeycomb and something rough all the same. It does things to Sanghyuk that he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s fine, just don’t be too loud,” Jaehwan shrugs, his hands slipping off Sanghyuk at a snail’s pace.

“I wouldn’t for all the world,” the boy drawls a bit, and Sanghyuk almost chokes on his saliva when he feels Jaehwan’s fingers gliding down his back, following the dip of his waist, and Jaehwan’s hand stops at the cusp of his ass, his body heat seeping through Sanghyuk’s skin.

Time speeds up once again, and Sanghyuk finds himself pushed into the armchair, Jaehwan telling him to try to return to his position. When Jaehwan steps away from him, the sight of lean ballet dancers stretching reveals itself to him, and Sanghyuk’s eyes are automatically drawn to the other Korean boy, his leg propped on the beam, leaning forward and staring at Sanghyuk through the mirror.

One of the dancers, the other male apart from the sun-kissed boy, walks up to the curtains and begins tugging at the heavy material, and Sanghyuk is both relieved and annoyed at the fact that he’s not going to be able to see the Korean dance, something he’s never thought he’d want to do – watching people other than his niece do ballet at showcases her group’s invited to – but as the curtain draws closer to completely covering the dance studio, some sort of panic begins to bubble in his stomach.

He wants to watch the boy dance.

The curtain comes to a sudden stop, and no matter how hard the guy yanks at it, it doesn’t budge.

Jaehwan grumbles something about having to keep telling the maintenance to fix it, but the students are returning and as they settle down behind their canvases, some of them tell Sanghyuk to lift his chin up a bit here, and slide a little bit lower there, raise his hand because it’s too close to his dick.

Sanghyuk takes a quick glance at his body, position the same as it was, and he almost falls out of the chair when he notices a small bead of precum on the tip, his fingertips slightly slick on his stomach.

Fucking. Hell.

Was he just about to unconsciously jerk off?

Jaehwan closes off the radio before walking up to the sun-kissed boy in the middle, talking in hushed tones, and over Jaehwan’s shoulders, the ballet dancer glances at Sanghyuk a few times though most of his face is hidden behind the back of Jaehwan’s head. Sanghyuk casts his eyes to the ground, feeling self-conscious.

It takes his muscles a shorter time to start being numb, but he tries to distract himself from the pain that settles into his body by listening to the modern instrumental coming from the other side, haunting, bass quiet but enough for Sanghyuk to feel it in his chest.

Between the curtains a two-meter wide window lets him catch glimpses of the dancers flitting and skipping soundlessly, their feet falling to the ground like feathers and snowflakes, twisting and gliding through air, and Sanghyuk’s heart skips a beat each time the Korean boy passes by.

When the boy stops in the middle, perfect view for Sanghyuk, he swallows, holding his breath and anticipating the dancer's performance.

Pain subsides and dissipates when the sun-kissed boy begins, falling to the floor with the grace of a thousand swans, spreading his arms, and he’s twisting on the floor to the beat of the music, his movements becoming sharper, wrists and hips snapping as the music picks up. He arches his back off the ground, arms moving as if they were trying to hold onto something, fingers curling in a desperate way, the song just as desperate, and the other dancers flock around him, caging him in a circle of waving bodies like tender reed in a summer storm.

Through the open balcony doors behind Sanghyuk, a chilly gust blows in from the canals, carrying the smell of stagnant water and a refreshment of air supply, the fluttering white curtain stroking Sanghyuk’s shoulder before it flows over his head and one of the decorative holes gets caught in his nose, covering his whole face.

There’s a soft chuckling from the students, but Jaehwan is there in a moment, untangling the curtain and letting it fall back, his fingers gliding over Sanghyuk’s cheekbones slowly.

Jaehwan closes the balcony door before making his rounds behind the students once again. Sanghyuk follows him with his gaze, the sun-kissed boy no longer in sight. He watches as Jaehwan examines the portraits, points out incorrect measurements and mistakes, encouraging everyone to start with the shading now.

When he’s done, he steps next to the heavy curtains, half-hidden from the other side, and stares at something Sanghyuk can’t see; instead Sanghyuk stares at Jaehwan’s profile, just as beautiful.

Sanghyuk’s fingers on his stomach twitch when he sees Jaehwan lick his lips before biting down hard on them as the dancer passes by him, the sight captivating.

Jaehwan winces visibly when one of the girls – the blonde who’s greeted Sanghyuk on the balcony – calls for Ken with her high pitched voice, asking him with a terminology Sanghyuk doesn’t understand. It doesn’t matter, because the enchanting image of Jaehwan staring at the sun-kissed boy just as longingly as Sanghyuk feels himself looking at the two of them is broken.

Sanghyuk wonders if there’s something between the two men, having all the time on his hands to look for the tiniest of clues, though it begins to lose its power as an effective distraction when he moves barely an inch, the feeling returning to his body parts that have gone numb. His whole body is filled with the urge to move, to get up and stretch his muscles, but he knows he can’t do that yet, and he desperately wishes to know just how many minutes there’s left till the next break.

The stifling smell of sweat starts to seep into their part of the room, prompting Jaehwan to crack open the balcony door again. This time he pulls away the curtains, and when a night breeze enters the studio, it chills Sanghyuk to the bones, refreshing to the point where Sanghyuk can’t hold in a quiet sigh. Goosebumps erupt on his skin and a shiver runs through him, more on the pleasant side this time. Jaehwan’s presence behind him is alluring, Sanghyuk a hair’s breadth away from turning his head around to look at the man.

“Okay, ten minutes,” Jaehwan claps, ending the second session. “Go get a coffee or something,” he dismisses the class with a wave.

Sanghyuk lets out a deep sigh that turns into a pained groan as he unceremoniously slides off the armchair. The small girl who’s scared Sanghyuk when he entered the studio sends him a sympathetic smile before standing from her bench, stretching her legs as well. The edge of her left hand is covered in a thick layer of charcoal.

“Do you want some coffee?” Jaehwan’s voice asks, a bit apologetic at seeing Sanghyuk’s state. Sanghyuk pushes himself up with difficulty, his muscles aching.

“Thanks, that’d be cool,” he nods, already tasting the drink on his tongue. He’s not sleepy or tired per say, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a cup of coffee, more tempting than the lukewarm bottle of water in his bag he’s brought with him.

“Right away,” Jaehwan winks at him, and when he leaves the room, Sanghyuk is alone on his side of the curtain. It seems like the dancers on the other side have gone to take a break as well.

Sanghyuk has been photographed and recorded on camera from every possible direction already, but seeing himself on the rough canvases and sheets of papers in charcoal, watercolors and simple graphite, all of them a little bit different with the artists’ own styles bleeding into them, Sanghyuk thinks that it’s all worth the pain and the initial embarrassment. Even his untrained eyes pick up mistakes here and there, but to him, who’s stuck at stick figures, every single of the drawings and paintings of him are beautiful, wishing he could take them home and hang them on the wall, show them off – okay maybe not that.

He wonders how he would look like if Jaehwan painted him.

“Sorry, I kinda butchered up your arms,” somebody says behind Sanghyuk, making him jump a little. Trying to shield his front from the short girl, he only turns his head.

“It’s okay,” Sanghyuk shrugs, “nobody’s ever drawn me, so…”

“Oh,” the girl mouths, bringing a plastic cup to her cherry lips. They are staring at her drawing, shading half done and the lines of the sketch erased thoroughly. “I swore I heard it from Ken that it’s not your first time sitting model,” she comments nonchalantly.

“Uh,” Sanghyuk says intelligently, “it was a… different kind of job.”

Nope. She doesn’t need to know about the gay porn movie.

“I see,” she nods, then clicks her tongue. “It’s a shame there won’t be a next time though,” she begins, catching Sanghyuk’s attention.

“What do you mean?”

“The academy is closing down,” she informs him, maybe a bit of regret showing in her voice. Behind them, a few people enter the studio, chattering. “You’re very… uh, how do I say,” she struggles a bit, looking for the English word, “…drawable? I like drawing you. So it’s a pity.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Sanghyuk pulls his lips into a narrow line. “And thanks.”

That’s the moment Jaehwan chooses to step around Sanghyuk, pushing a dark cup in his hands.

“Be warned,” the man says with a grin, “not only does it taste like shit, it’s hot too.”

But it’s too late because Sanghyuk has already dipped the tip of his tongue into the steaming drink, pulling it back quickly. The girl next to them lets out a soft chuckle, settling back into her seat and focusing on her piece.

“At least I won’t be able to taste how bad it is,” Sanghyuk comments lightly, blowing at the coffee and attempting another sip.

Jaehwan hides his smile behind his own plastic cup, his dark brown eyes glinting mischievously.

In the corner of his eyes, Sanghyuk sees some of the ballet dancers entering the dance studio through the narrow door, dressed in street clothes this time. He hears them saying goodbye to someone, but from where he’s standing, he can’t see whom. When he averts his gaze from them, his eyes meet with Jaehwan’s, his stare intense and heated, hotter than the coffee Sanghyuk forgets about and burns his throat with.

Jaehwan’s eyes scorch across him in an entirely different aspect, and unlike the coffee, Sanghyuk wants this to burn him.

“There’s only half an hour left from the class,” Jaehwan looks at his watch, and from his wrist, his eyes slip to Sanghyuk’s junk for a moment longer than what Sanghyuk is comfortable with. “You’re doing good.”

And Sanghyuk knows, oh he knows what Jaehwan means by that.

Sanghyuk feels the beginning of a blush, his body temperature rising even in the now rather chilly classroom.

“It makes me wonder how you’re managing it for so long,” Jaehwan says, his somewhat exhausted yet still pretty features contemplative. Sanghyuk almost spits the coffee back into the cup at the comment, his heart hammering.

Well. One of the reasons is standing right before him.

And the other one is— the other one is still there, dancing again to no music, and if Sanghyuk was able to hear anything over the loud drumming in his ears, he bets he still wouldn’t be able to hear the sun-kissed boy move around the dance studio.

“I—uh,” Sanghyuk stammers, voice high, and gulps. He hides behind the cup, but it only covers so much, and shit, he knows he shouldn’t look at Jaehwan like that.

Something flashes across Jaehwan’s features, his brows drawn together, before his face stretches with a knowing grin.

“I’m just joking,” Jaehwan slaps Sanghyuk’s chest, and it’s loud and stings. The sound echoes in Sanghyuk’s mind, turning into something else, something that sends a much needed spark to his cock. It’s a little bit annoying, that he’s still denied of his long overdue orgasm, but he feels a little bit of pride for not using the cock ring.

He finishes his coffee during a small talk with Jaehwan about trivial things, telling the man about his stay in Italy for a few fashion shows and small photoshoots, and listens to Jaehwan talk about how he was offered this job. Sanghyuk is glad that for once, Jaehwan doesn’t seem to be wanting to eat him up with his eyes, that the man ignores the fact that Sanghyuk is naked, and holds the conversation within normal boundaries.

When Jaehwan gets up from his perch on the armrest of the chair, looking at his watch, Sanghyuk excuses himself and strokes his slumping erection back to life in the bathroom, desperately trying to feel Jaehwan press against his body, his hands instead of Sanghyuk’s.

Some sort of tension arises after the last session begins, not between Jaehwan and the students even with him telling them that they should be finished with the shading by now, but between Jaehwan and Sanghyuk.

And that tension practically sizzles by the time the last ten minutes roll around, three students already finished and packed away, ready to leave. They fish around their wallets for a few banknotes that they hand to Jaehwan while saying their goodbyes, and Sanghyuk mutters a quiet _hello_ under his breath until it hitches when he accidentally looks at Jaehwan.

It stretches thin in the last few minutes, Jaehwan seemingly on edge, tapping his feet and masking his sudden impatience with bright smiles. He ignores the strange glances sent by the remaining students as they hurry with their finishing touches. It’s already nighttime, and nobody is willing to stay later than it’s necessary.

Sanghyuk wouldn’t mind staying late if he got to spend that time in Jaehwan’s private company.

Preferably with even less clothes and a lot more touching.

Sanghyuk feels like he’s frozen in place under Jaehwan’s heavy glances, like a second gravity pulling him back to the chair, and he stays seated for a few more moments even after Jaehwan tells everybody to pack up whether they’re finished or not. Struggling to get out of the armchair, Sanghyuk takes his time, though there’s an urgency in his lower stomach to go somewhere private, Jaehwan’s office or the bathroom, who cares, he needs to take care of his raging hard-on—

He dashes into Jaehwan’s office, trying not to appear too eager to get out of there, but he can’t help it, he can’t bear any more of Jaehwan’s hungry looks. His legs shake with every step, less from the long hours of strain of not moving and more from the unbearable desire.

The edge of the desk cutting into his palms is a familiar sensation, and Sanghyuk heaves, panting as if he’s run a marathon. His whole body is numb with pain and craving, but his fingers refuse to come anywhere near his cock.

Muffled voices enter his ear, thuds echoing and fading away, but his brain is only capable of half-registering these sounds, busy conjuring images that both give him pleasure and torture him.

The door to the office creaks, and Sanghyuk’s mind is yanked out of his fantasies and—

A body slams into him and he lets out a pained yelp at the sudden intrusion. Strong arms wrap around his torso, sliding down his stomach without beating around the bush.

“God, oh god,” Jaehwan moans into Sanghyuk’s ear, his voice breathy and stifling like the night outside. “I thought we were never going to finish,” he whispers, slipping back to Korean, and not hesitating to wrap his palm around Sanghyuk’s cock.

The moan dies in Sanghyuk’s throat, and the sound that escapes his open mouth is embarrassing to him but encouraging to Jaehwan because the man’s fingertips glide up and down a few times, the other hand forming a tight circle around the base.

Sanghyuk’s orgasm builds up in moments, and as soon as Jaehwan loosens his fingers, Sanghyuk comes, his cum covering Jaehwan’s desk and everything on it in front of them, a guttural cry leaving his lungs. A shiver runs through him like a tide as Jaehwan milks him with a few more strokes.

“Fuck,” Sanghyuk groans, intending to lean forward to cover himself, but Jaehwan doesn’t let him, grinds his hips on his bare ass, cock hard as a rock.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jaehwan bites at the shell of Sanghyuk’s ear feather-lightly, just enough to send a spark through Sanghyuk’s whole body. “I want you so bad.”

“God,” Sanghyuk swallows. His stomach trembles with the anticipation, Jaehwan’s front flush tight against his back covering every single rational thought with raw lust.

A finger comes up to his chin, and forces Sanghyuk to turn his head. As soon as he sees Jaehwan’s face, Jaehwan latches onto Sanghyuk’s lips, nipping at the lower one while Sanghyuk opens his mouth without hesitating one bit.

Jaehwan tastes like coffee, his tongue dry and hot, and saliva runs out in the corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth as he lets Jaehwan dominate him in this uncomfortable position of him stuck between the desk and Jaehwan, upper body twisted to the side and right arm grabbing onto Jaehwan’s shoulder for support.

He feels Jaehwan moving, leaning away from him and one arm doing something that Sanghyuk can’t see, but he hears rummaging, the fluttering of paper.

“Let me…,” Jaehwan trails off quietly, and before Sanghyuk can ask what he means by that, the man slips the cock ring to the base of Sanghyuk’s dick.

Sanghyuk groans in frustration, the cool metal settling on his still sensitive skin. He feels blood flowing back to his cock, well on his way to another erection. He opens his mouth to object to using the toy, but he’s cut off by the opening door.

Somebody clears their throat, voice familiar, and Sanghyuk pushes at Jaehwan’s chest harshly and looks at the intruder with wide eyes.

It’s the sun-kissed boy. He stands there frozen, just as surprised as Sanghyuk.

“Uh,” Sanghyuk begins, but Jaehwan’s voice cuts him off.

“Babe,” Jaehwan says with a soft smile after he turns around, still not letting Sanghyuk escape.

“I’ve been waiting for you to finish,” the boy explains, his forehead wrinkled. He looks between Jaehwan and Sanghyuk, and Sanghyuk wants the ground to swallow him in one piece.

Instead of replying, Jaehwan just grins and reaches for the boy with one arm.

After a few moments of hesitation, the boy takes his hand, stepping up to them quietly, gliding through the heated air. Sanghyuk’s heart skips a beat, the new smell overwhelming all of his senses.

“Hakyeon, babe, look at him,” Jaehwan drawls, staring at Sanghyuk. They are both looking at him, and Sanghyuk wants to crouch down and disappear. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

Hakyeon leans close and does the same with Sanghyuk’s chin as Jaehwan did not so long ago, and this kiss is gentle whereas Jaehwan’s was rough and needy. Sanghyuk feels Jaehwan’s thumbs drawing circles on his hips.

His mind is about to shut down.

“What?” Sanghyuk squeaks, blinking in confusion. His brain is trying to register what’s happening to him right now: he’s naked, he’s been having an erection for the past two hours, he’s lusting after the art instructor, and when it finally begins, the ballet dancer Sanghyuk hasn’t been able to get out of his head barges in.

And on top of that, Jaehwan calls him _babe._

And he kisses Sanghyuk.

“He is,” Hakyeon agrees, a gentle smile on his tan face, and Sanghyuk wants to argue with that so hard because it’s Hakyeon who’s beautiful, it’s Jaehwan, it’s the two of them that are should be called beautiful, not Sanghyuk.

“What do you think?” Jaehwan asks quietly, his voice sultry as he turns his face and nibs on Hakyeon’s earlobe. The ballet dancer lets out a pleasant chuckle, leaning away in a teasing manner.

“I—,” he’s cut off by Jaehwan kissing him, a brief peck on his dark lips, “—wouldn’t mind. I really wouldn’t,” he adds slowly.

For once, Sanghyuk doesn’t care that they are talking about him like he’s not there with them – he’s still trapped against Jaehwan’s body for fuck’s sake – but his mind is still trying to comprehend the situation fully.

“What do you say, Sanghyuk?” Jaehwan turns back to Sanghyuk, and the smile on his lips is nothing like the previous ones; this is— he’s asking for Sanghyuk’s opinion, he wants to know what Sanghyuk wants, he wants Sanghyuk to consent.

Sanghyuk swallows the lump in his throat. The two men are looking at him expectantly.

“The more the merrier,” Hakyeon quips in with infuriatingly innocent features. His smile is bright where Jaehwan’s are energizing. Sanghyuk looks between them.

 

Sanghyuk only remembers nodding, but the part where the three of them take a narrow set of stairs without leaving the academy and end up in a bedroom that looks like Jaehwan’s office is completely erased from his memory, lingering in the back of his mind as blurred movements through the apartment and hands on his body, hands everywhere.

The next thing Sanghyuk knows, he’s pushed down onto a wide bed, Hakyeon on him and kissing him hungrily while Jaehwan behind them is struggling to undress in hurry, his shirt getting stuck in his head, tearing a frustrated huff out of him. Hakyeon notices Sanghyuk’s momentary distraction and cups his face, deepening the kiss.

“Move,” they hear Jaehwan’s command and Hakyeon falls next to Sanghyuk.

“Fuck, Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk grits out when the man takes Sanghyuk’s cock in his mouth.

“Sshh,” Hakyeon whispers from next to him, and drags a single finger across Sanghyuk’s jaw, turning his head to the side. “Look at me,” the dancer says, and he stares into Sanghyuk’s eyes without blinking, and Sanghyuk is enchanted, his mind buzzing until the tip of his cock touches the back of Jaehwan’s throat.

The man lets out a gagging sound, but he doesn’t pull away, his nose bumping against Sanghyuk stomach, and Sanghyuk squeezes his eyes shut. He lets out a whine, again in the position where he can’t climax just yet.

He hears rustling of clothes, and the bed dips with Hakyeon’s weight at both sides of Sanghyuk’s head. Two shins rest on his shoulders, feet between his arms and his torso, a position he’s never been in before.

“Look at me,” Hakyeon repeats, voice darker, sultry now, and Sanghyuk’s lips part when he feels something soft prodding at them.

Sanghyuk takes Hakyeon’s cock in his mouth, slowly, making the dancer let out a lengthy exhale. Their position is not the most comfortable one for Sanghyuk to work Hakyeon’s erection, the muscles in his neck straining as he bobs his head up and down clumsily. He lifts an arm in instinct to wrap a hand around what he can’t reach with his mouth, but Hakyeon’s legs are in the way.

Jaehwan leaves Sanghyuk, and his head comes up behind Hakyeon, both men straddling Sanghyuk as he’s laid on the bed. Jaehwan’s arms wrap around Hakyeon’s waist and when Sanghyuk opens his eyes to look up, he sees them both staring at him with such intensity that if it wasn’t for the ring on him, he’d come right now.

“I have an idea,” Jaehwan breathes into Hakyeon’s ear loud enough, and the dancer cranes his neck for Jaehwan to bite into the tender skin and suck a mark into it. The art instructor kisses his way up back to Hakyeon’s ear and whispers something to him that Sanghyuk can’t make out.

Hakyeon lets out a guttural groan, releasing his come into Sanghyuk’s mouth without a warning. Sanghyuk sputters, spitting Hakyeon out, but Jaehwan reaches down and closes his mouth firmly, telling him to swallow.

“Hakyeon loves it,” Jaehwan explains earnestly.

Before Sanghyuk can say anything, the taste too sweet on his tongue, his stomach rolling with confusion, Jaehwan takes matters into his hands and begins instructing; he tells Hakyeon to get up, and tells Sanghyuk the same, as he himself slides off Sanghyuk’s waist.

Hakyeon sits back on Jaehwan’s lap, and this is the first time Sanghyuk gets to glimpse the dancer in his full glory, body lithe and lean with stringy muscles, his chest and abdominal muscles visible but not outstanding, his biceps just enough to lift another person. His thighs are thick, an exciting comparison to his narrow hips, and Sanghyuk wants his hands on him.

Sanghyuk climbs forward grabs Hakyeon’s hipbones.

“A sight to behold, isn’t it?” Jaehwan asks from behind Hakyeon’s shoulder. His arms are holding the dancer by his torso, loosely wrapped around him. Loving.

Sanghyuk nods, no words on his tongue to describe the sight. There are no words, no matter the language.

“And you’ll get to fuck him,” Jaehwan adds with a smirk, Hakyeon closing his eyes and dropping his head on Jaehwan’s shoulders with a moan. “You deserve it, after all the suffering you went through.”

Sanghyuk swallows and leans close when Jaehwan unwinds his arms from around Hakyeon and reaches out for Sanghyuk with one of them. They kiss each other over Hakyeon’s shoulder, and when Jaehwan lets him go, Sanghyuk’s nose grazes over Hakyeon’s cheek.

The dancer grabs Sanghyuk and pulls him close, pressing his lips in the corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth, as if missing his destination, before his tongue finds Sanghyuk’s and locks with it.

Jaehwan leaves them for something on the other side of the dimly lit bedroom, Hakyeon grinding against Sanghyuk, their cocks trapped between their bodies and thighs between their spread legs as they kneel before each other, rising off their heels and sinking back in one grinding motion, unable to stay still.

They’re separated by Jaehwan’s hands on the crook of their necks. He tosses a packet of condom at Sanghyuk, moving to tear his own.

“I hope it’s the right size,” Sanghyuk hears Jaehwan mutter under his nose.

Sanghyuk’s hand fumble when he tries to roll the condom onto his cock, but Hakyeon helps him, patiently, expertly, and the rubber fits perfectly.

“Lie back,” Jaehwan says quietly, his voice breathy. He doesn’t look collected anymore, hair even messier than before, his chest rising with the same thing that Sanghyuk is feeling, the only difference that Jaehwan hasn’t been touched yet.

As if on cue, Hakyeon reaches behind him and wraps a hand around Jaehwan while Sanghyuk props himself on the pillows, watching intently as the two lovers move against each other, almost writhing. Jaehwan closes his eyes and opens his mouth, lower lip curling against tan skin as he breathes into Hakyeon’s hair, and Hakyeon’s Adam’s apple is a sharp peak on his throat as it bobs up and down in half-swallows. Sanghyuk sees Jaehwan reaching between them, the muscles in his arm straining and Hakyeon moaning, his face twisted and scrunched.

Sanghyuk strokes himself lightly at the show, desire to be inside either of them burning in his belly. With the last bits of his rational thoughts he contemplates whether he should get rid of that fucking cock ring, but before he could come to a conclusion, Hakyeon is on him, between Sanghyuk’s spread legs.

He doesn’t hesitate to grab Sanghyuk and lead his cock into him.

Sanghyuk chokes on his saliva at the tight sensation, and doubled up with the restraint, his orgasm washes over him, unable to leave his body. Hakyeon lets out a series of broken moans, his stomach flexing as he sinks down onto Sanghyuk’s hips, and leans forward.

“C-can I— move?” Sanghyuk stutters, waiting for Hakyeon to settle on top of him. The dancer lets his forehead fall onto Sanghyuk’s chest, and Sanghyuk feels him nod once. He looks at Jaehwan as if to ask for permission, but the man is still sitting on his heels, stroking himself and watching them with sharp eyes.

Sanghyuk rocks his hips a few times, trying to set a pace that’s good for Hakyeon too, and he’s thrusting in and out in no time, Hakyeon gripping the pillows at the sides of Sanghyuk’s head.

His chest is moist from Hakyeon’s mouth as the dancer breathes on him, and his skin is on fire as the friction pushes him towards his orgasm again, cock ring or not, until—

“Stop,” Jaehwan commands, his voice straining with self-restraint. Sanghyuk doesn’t listen to him, but Hakyeon seems to be wired to behave because he moves against the rhythm, forcing Sanghyuk to step out of his trance and stop to see what’s wrong.

Jaehwan pulls Hakyeon up and grabs Sanghyuk’s bicep, tugging him along.

They are all on their knees with Hakyeon sandwiched between them, Sanghyuk still buried deep in him. As if knowing what’s going to happen, Hakyeon lets out a whimper, and he swallows, squeezing around Sanghyuk.

“Are you ready?” Jaehwan asks into the back of Hakyeon’s ear, looking at Sanghyuk with such dark eyes that if Sanghyuk wasn’t in such a situation, he would find the look borderline scary. His heart is drumming in his ribcage, blood rushing to his ears as he waits for Jaehwan to move, expectation gnawing at his lower lip.

Sanghyuk’s breath hitches when he feels a finger touching the underside of his cock, prodding around Hakyeon’s entrance until it slips past with barely any resistance, sliding up against Sanghyuk’s dick.

Hakyeon cries out, his head lolling onto Sanghyuk’s shoulder and arms coming around him for support. Sanghyuk feels Hakyeon’s whole body trembling against him, so he places an arm around the dancer, pulling him closer and giving more space to Jaehwan.

“He stretches himself so well,” Jaehwan drawls and adds another finger. Hakyeon lets out a weak whimper, blunt nails clawing at Sanghyuk’s back. Sanghyuk isn’t a masochist per say, but his brain is too overwhelmed to feel the sting, registering it as pure pleasure.

“In every sense of the word.”

Sanghyuk gawks at Jaehwan, trying to calm his heart, but it’s racing, beating so rapidly, he’s so fucking excited, god, what the fuck is happening—

“Have you done this when you shot that porn movie?” Jaehwan asks suddenly, his collarbones and one shoulder moving flexibly as he fucks Hakyeon with his fingers while Sanghyuk is still inside the dancer, stretching him further.

Hakyeon yanks his head up, staring at Sanghyuk with wide eyes, a hint of pain etched into his features as he scrunches his face each time Jaehwan pulls out and pushes back.

“That’s right babe,” Jaehwan leans forward to whisper into Hakyeon’s ear, eyes trained at Sanghyuk. “Our little guest is a porn star.”

“T-that’s an ex—,” Sanghyuk’s voice breaks into a choking swallow, “—exaggeration.”

“Then fuck me already,” Hakyeon grits out through his teeth.

Jaehwan nuzzles against the back of Hakyeon’s head, his muffled groan erupting from the deepest pits of his stomach.

Sanghyuk’s arms almost give out, elbows buckling, and Hakyeon falling on top of him when Jaehwan guides his cock to Hakyeon’s hole.

“Easy, easy,” Jaehwan murmurs, pushing the tip of his cock against Sanghyuk. “Relax,” he tells Hakyeon softly, but his voice betrays his collected façade and breaks.

Hakyeon seethes, in pain or in annoyance at Jaehwan’s stupid comments, Sanghyuk doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything but the feeling of being in Hakyeon and the way another cock slides in, flush tight against him, an entirely new type of sensation revealing itself to him.

He doesn’t know what to do with it, but Sanghyuk is restless all of a sudden. His hips twitch on their own, making Hakyeon cry out.

“Let him get used to it,” Jaehwan clicks his tongue, but he’s already too spent to sound threatening. And Sanghyuk doesn’t care either, because he knows he could pin Jaehwan down with ease, he could pin both men down without much difficulty, his shoulder broader than theirs.

Sanghyuk wants to act on his desires to have the two underneath him, but then Jaehwan moves, rising on his knees, and together with him Hakyeon moves as well.

Hakyeon is panting loudly by now, sweat trickling down his temples and his hair is sticking to his forehead. His eyes are unfocused, pain tearing at his mouth.

Before he begins to pull out, Jaehwan presses a long kiss on Hakyeon’s shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible into his skin, strangely intimate to Sanghyuk, more intimate than the sex they’re having right now.

Sanghyuk’s mind resurfaces, realizing that he’s just blacked out for a fragment of a moment when Jaehwan decided to push back, and Jaehwan repeats the same motions after waiting a second, listening to the pained strain in Hakyeon’s moans, loud and four thin walls absorbing them.

Sanghyuk has never been on the vocal side, but even if he was, he would force himself to shut up so just he can hear Hakyeon’s voice like this, not exactly deep on its own but still reverberating in Sanghyuk’s bones.

There’s only the three of them, in that stuffy room on the bed with the horrible mattress, springs digging into Sanghyuk’s knees, and there are no sounds from the outside world filtering in through the open window, only Hakyeon’s high pitched whines, Jaehwan’s moans straight from his belly and Sanghyuk’s quiet panting. There is no light and no darkness for Sanghyuk, just the sight of Hakyeon’s sun-kissed skin glinting with sweat, and Jaehwan behind him, skin paler, his arms and neck and cleavage tanned in the Mediterranean summer.

There’s nothing else, but Hakyeon and Jaehwan, and them letting Sanghyuk into something filthy, something amazing, and Sanghyuk struggles to keep up with it.

It’s all a lot more than what he’s expected, what he wanted, but he’s not complaining. It’s something he couldn’t even imagine in his wildest dreams, but here he is, having a threesome with an art instructor and a ballet dancer, and Sanghyuk couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Even though Hakyeon still appears to be in pain – which seems to be turning into pleasure if his gradually increasing moans are anything to go by – he moves his body fluidly, movements carved into his muscles, and—

And Sanghyuk doesn’t know how Hakyeon does it, but even with two guys fucking him at the same time, Hakyeon manages to be graceful, moving between Sanghyuk and Jaehwan as if he was just dancing, as if this was just a performance to entrance the audience, and fuck if that tiny part in Sanghyuk’s mind that’s still capable of thoughts is not in awe, completely enthralled by the sight blooming in front of him.

With a shaking hand, he pushes at Hakyeon’s shoulder, and the dancer falls into Jaehwan’s embrace pliantly, and Sanghyuk snaps his hips, taking in Hakyeon’s frame with hungry eyes.

It’s like he just can’t get enough the two of them together, like this.

Jaehwan’s hands curl around Hakyeon’s sides before he slides one palm to his chest, stroking around his nipples teasingly, and he stops moving to let Sanghyuk do the work for time being. He busies himself with making sure Hakyeon enjoys himself as well, a little bit too late for that now since Hakyeon is just a moaning mess, precum leaking from the tip of his cock, the only thing holding him back from reaching his climax probably being the still too unbearable stretch inside.

Just as it is with Hakyeon, Sanghyuk feels he’s nearing the end line as well, already used to the bite of the cock ring around the base, and when Jaehwan presses his hands against Hakyeon’s shoulders to make them all fall over onto the bed, Sanghyuk at the bottom, it’s clear that the art instructor is almost there as well.

Hakyeon comes first, the only friction his cock getting is the one it gets while trapped between his and Sanghyuk’s body, and the liquid is warm on Sanghyuk’s stomach.

Jaehwan follows him quickly, just before Hakyeon could come down from the high of his orgasm and start feeling too sensitive, and Jaehwan slips out hurriedly, pulling Hakyeon down together with him.

Before Sanghyuk could give voice to his displeasure of being forced to pull out, Jaehwan is on him, Hakyeon discarded just next to him, and when he twists the cock ring, Sanghyuk grabs a fistful of Jaehwan’s hair, cursing loudly. The condom comes off with the ring and—

His orgasm explodes out of him, faster than Jaehwan could lean out of the way, and his face is dripping with Sanghyuk’s come, and fuck, it’s better than when they swallow.

Jaehwan licks Sanghyuk off his lips. On their side Hakyeon lets out a needy whine before climbing onto Jaehwan’s lap and holding onto his shoulders, tongue lapping at Jaehwan’s mouth. The groan that leaves Sanghyuk is the loudest he’s ever produced in his life, his eyes rolling back in his head.

A sudden tide of raw exhaustion – worse than what he’s had during the art class in the armchair, worse than what he’s ever felt before – washes over his whole body, pinning his limbs to the bed.

With his mind already slipping into unconsciousness, the last thing he registers is the bed moving with the weight of the two men.

 

The broken spring in the mattress digs into Sanghyuk’s back, rousing from his dreamless sleep with a sharp bite.

Sanghyuk groans into the pillow, and tries moving his body, but it’s like as though his muscles were doused in some kind of thick tar, and his foggy mind reminds him of all the time he’s woken up with a hangover—

Someone stirs beside him and it makes Sanghyuk realize that there’s a plus weight on his waist, his arm resting on top of it, another arm holding him close to a warm and soft body.

He cracks his eyes open, gunk gluing his eyelids together, and Jaehwan’s face is so close to Sanghyuk that he feels the unpleasant breath coming from Jaehwan’s open mouth. The white sheet of the pillow is dark under Jaehwan’s mouth, a small pool of drool.

Shit.

Sanghyuk hasn’t had too many one-night stands before, but he knows that he’s always left right after they were done, no cuddling, no staying over to face each other and have an awkward morning.

His stomach squeezes when Jaehwan furrows his brows in his sleep, before his wrinkles flatten out once again.

He doesn’t want this to be a one-night stand.

Sanghyuk leaves the bed, the space of their last third gone cold a long ago, and looks around the floor to look for his clothes before he realizes that they’re still in Jaehwan’s office, tucked in his bag. He grabs the fluffy robe laid out on a leather armchair in the corner, and ties it securely, not a peek of skin showing. He’ll give it back when he’s dressed properly.

He rakes through his memories, trying to recall just how in the hell did they enter the apartment without exiting the academy, the narrow stairs just a blurry image in his head.

Something clatters down the short hall he’s currently standing in, and Sanghyuk shudders, jumping a bit. He really needs his clothes before he fucks off, but shit— Jaehwan still hasn’t paid him.

Would Jaehwan consider the sex as Sanghyuk’s payment? Sanghyuk wouldn’t mind because it was beyond imagination, but he doesn’t think the agency would be so accepting.

He ends up in the kitchen somehow, and he finds Hakyeon puttering around the counter, moka pot whistling on the gas stove.

“Hey,” Hakyeon greets him before Sanghyuk could turn around and go back the way he came. Sanghyuk swallows the lump in his throat, returning Hakyeon’s bright smile with a tired and bashful one. “Do you want some coffee? Real coffee,” the dancer chirps like an early bird and lifts the pot to show it to Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk nods once, head acting on its own accord.

There are three mugs on the counter, already prepared.

“Can I ask a question?” Sanghyuk begins after settling down in the couch in the living room adjacent to the kitchen. The awkwardness is palpable in the atmosphere as Hakyeon sits next to him, a lot closer to Sanghyuk than what he’s comfortable with right now.

Maybe it’s all in his head, because Hakyeon’s smiles are just as easy as they were the day before.

“Of course,” he nods, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. He closes his eyes, and Sanghyuk’s words get stuck in his throat for a second.

“Do you guys always have sex with all of Jaehwan’s models?”

Hakyeon’s laugh is bubbly, lilting – it fits him so well. He covers his mouth, placing the mug on the coffee table before he could pour it all over himself.

“No, not really,” Hakyeon shakes his head with a smile. “Do you always have sex with your employers?” The phrasing might sound rude, but Sanghyuk knows it’s not what Hakyeon means, just taking Sanghyuk’s question and redirecting it back to him.

Sanghyuk almost chokes on his coffee, so Hakyeon helps with his coughing fit with a strong hand patting his back. The hand stays there after Sanghyuk’s lungs calm down and his skin prickles at the contact even through the robe.

“No, not really,” he echoes with a small grin.

Hakyeon’s thumb strokes the back of Sanghyuk’s neck, and the awkwardness starts to bleed out of the air between them. They stare at each other, and the last night begins replaying in Sanghyuk’s head.

“I’m Hakyeon by the way,” the dancer speaks up, leaning closer. “And I really…” he trails off, and the mug is gone from Sanghyuk’s hands, “really enjoyed last night.”

Sanghyuk is glad that the other was reasonable enough to place his drink on the table because the kiss takes his mind immediately, and Sanghyuk presses his body flush against Hakyeon, yearning to feel the dancer against him again.

“I’m Sanghyuk,” he whispers into Hakyeon’s smile.

The floor creaks behind them.

“Don’t leave me out,” Jaehwan whines, breaking them apart with a loud smack.

“Then come here, you whiny baby,” Hakyeon reaches for him with his free hand, letting out an exasperated sigh, the other one still resting on Sanghyuk’s neck. Jaehwan takes his hand as he rounds the sofa, and wedges himself between the two of them.

Sanghyuk watches the exchange with a weird feeling settling in his stomach as Jaehwan pecks Hakyeon’s lips.

“Good morning to you too,” Jaehwan tells Sanghyuk after turning to him, and repeats his actions on Sanghyuk’s mouth.

Sanghyuk grabs after Jaehwan’s neck when the man is about to back away, and deepens the kiss with his tongue. The feeling of not wanting to leave Jaehwan out increases in him.

Jaehwan grins at him when Sanghyuk lets go, feeling his cheeks heating up. The TV spews Italian words at them as Hakyeon switches it on for background noise.

“Do you fancy some breakfast?” Hakyeon asks after finishing his coffee, looking at Sanghyuk behind Jaehwan’s head on the back of the couch.

“Uh,” Sanghyuk says, thinking, “I don’t know, I should be going back to the motel to pack my stuff.”

“Are you leaving?” Jaehwan pipes up curiously, nose buried in the mug as he finishes his coffee as well.

“Yeah, I’m going back to Seoul tomorrow, and I don’t want to leave the packing to the last moment,” Sanghyuk explains, his fingers playing with the tie of the robe.

He doesn’t really want to go.

Hakyeon snatches his head up, and Jaehwan is looking at him with a childish pout, “Seoul?”

Sanghyuk nods, and blinks at the two men in confusion when Jaehwan and Hakyeon share a meaningful look.

“Then, we’ll be able to see you again,” Hakyeon translates their silent conversation for Sanghyuk.

His stomach squeezes; they want to see him again. They want it to be more than just a one-night stand. They, too, want this to be more than just that.

“Yeah, we’re moving back to Seoul, with the academy closing and all,” Jaehwan explains enthusiastically. “We could meet up there!”

Sanghyuk keeps quiet for a few beats, mind reeling with the images of having Jaehwan and Hakyeon in his own apartment, images of their future together already, of the things they could do together, of the sight of Hakyeon dancing just for the two of them in the wee hours of the night, and of seeing Jaehwan create his masterpieces. Of the amazing sex they could have on every flat surface at Sanghyuk’s place, or at their new home.

Sanghyuk wants it, he wants all of it.

“Yeah,” he nods, a wide smile splitting his face, “let’s meet later.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually sat model for a few art classes and let me tell you it's not as fun and easy as it sounds. It paid pretty well considering all I had to do was try to sit motionless for two hours, but god, even after a year my muscles have nightmares.


End file.
